


when you dream with a fever

by selinameh



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinameh/pseuds/selinameh
Summary: In order to avoid unwanted attention, Silver comes up with a lie where he is involved with his very possessive captain. Now whether or not Flint chooses to play along this ploy remains to be seen.





	when you dream with a fever

**Author's Note:**

> this is set somewhere after season 2, possibly an AU because it's happy?  
> see, I don't know where this came from, but hopefully it will fill its purpose and entertain at least one (1) of you!
> 
> this is a story I wrote to take a break from a longer piece I'm working on but hopefully it's still readable
> 
> title from Lorde's Sober which is a very good song would recommend

”What is it?”

Flint sounds irritated when Silver enters the room, and the man can't help but wince a little, this probably not being the best time to tell the captain his bad news. The two of them are currently stuck in Nassau for the duration of the Walrus' careening and being away from the sea never seemed to agree with Flint. That and having to room in a busy brothel with no modicum of peace. Silver himself doesn’t mind as much, appreciating the solid ground under his still healing stump and the still nights in a solid bed, rooted in place. Not to mention the fresh food that doesn't smell like old fish.

Flint is currently sitting in his chair, set behind a table, measuring the map in front of him. They have received leads on an English ship sailing in the nearby waters and Flint is set on going after it as soon as the Walrus is back in sailing order. Hopefully it won't be happening too soon since Silver appreciates seeing the captain daily in his white linen shirts and simple trousers, the weather being too hot for anything else. The quartermaster has come to learn the hard way that the Summers in Nassau were nearly unbearable, and how Flint has managed to endure through them with his pale and very ginger complexion is still a complete mystery to him. However, Silver does not mind the display put in front of him, enjoying being a witness to Flint's struggles against the pervasive heat. 

“Silver, when you barge in here like that, I hope for your sake there’s a proper explanation”, Flint grits through his teeth.

“Uh, right”, Silver halts in place, looking around, locating a chair for him to sit in.

“Really need to get rid of that chair. Can’t have people thinking they’re welcome to come and stay in my quarters”, Flint looks at Silver pointedly, but the newly appointed quartermaster chooses to ignore it.

“This is a bedroom in a whorehouse, Captain.”

“And as long as I stay here, it will be _my_ bedroom in a whorehouse, Silver.”

Silver sits on the chair, getting comfortable. It feels good to get the weight off his boot. Silver isn't exactly comfortable with it, not yet when the wound is still relatively fresh and the fit of the boot still a work in process. Flint looks annoyed for a brief second, but the tense look melts away as his defeat comes obvious. Silver sees his opening.

“We have a small problem.”

Flint leans back in his chair and turns his head towards the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. He then makes a motion with his hand, telling Silver to keep going. The quartermaster takes advantage of Flint's divided attention and risks a glance, taking in the long line of the captain's neck and the way his Adam’s apple moves, stretching the skin around—

"Silver!"

“There were couple hitches during the meeting, and I might have dragged you into something.”

“Excuse me?” Flint asks, head still pointed towards the ceiling.

“Just to remind you, we work together, and it is in _your_ best interests to help me out.”

“You have yet to mention what this problem actually is”, Flint says, exasperated and finally turns his green eyes on Silver.

“You’re well aware of how I volunteered to convince the Gresham man to let us use his men for the securing of the next prize”, Silver starts, feeling a blush creeping up his neck, “I did meet with the man and we had a conversation that seemed very promising. However, as I was leaving, something rather unpleasant came up.

“See, he was very forthcoming. Overly so. And, well, he didn't exactly give me any time to think it through-“

“Silver, as much as I enjoy seeing you struggle, out with it, please.”

“Gresham was under the impression that I would be willing to seal the deal in a-- physical manner, so to speak and he was adamant about this, and I-“ Silver cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth, and as a result starts speaking faster and faster, “I didn’t feel like I was in the position to turn him down and hurt his feelings. So, so I told him I'm involved with the captain."

Flint looks at Silver like he doesn't understand what he is talking about. This could be ruse on the captain's part, Silver knows the man is not above making Silver beg for help. The thing is, he would rather do anything else than spell out this particular issue.

"Involved, as in", Silver regrets taking up a seat so near to the infuriating man, "Gresham shouldn't make any untoward advances on me as the captain would not appreciate it."

"And why's that?" Flint asks, now leaning forward in his seat. Silver sees the specks of amusement in the man's eyes. _The devil._

"Fucking hell, you really are making me say this out loud, aren't you?" Silver asks and Flint has the audacity to shrug his shoulders, "I told Gresham that we're fucking. Exclusively. I told that man that you'd go kill his family if he laid a finger on me. You happy?"

There are couple options more preferable to Silver's current situation, such as sawing off his remaining foot off and feeding it to the sharks. His entire face is burning, and Flint looks more amused than any man has the right to. It's as if Silver has told him that the Queen had died and England had succumbed under violence and despair.

“You know what, I’ll just go find the man and expl-“

“Gresham invited me over to sign the papers with you, didn't he?" Flint laughs, for the first time in weeks.

“He did."

“I’ll come with you”, Flint agrees, acting like it's the most normal thing to do. Silver's heart stops in its tracks, and he is rooted to the desk, feeling light-headed. He had imagined multiple scenarios, none of which involved Flint agreeing this easily. There is something suspicious taking place here, but Silver does not have the capacity to deal with it just yet. He will have to see how this plays out.

“Just tell me when you need me.”

 _How about right now?_ Is not something Silver says, but something he fervently thinks.  
  
  
It’s couple hours later. Silver’s limping alongside Flint to the tavern where he had set up the meeting earlier that day. He’s supporting himself with a crutch, finding it easier to navigate Nassau’s cobbled streets this way. To say he’s nervous doesn’t even begin to cover it – Flint is so quiet next to him, it’s unnerving. It was very unlike the captain not to reprimand Silver when the quartermaster gave him an opening like this. Silver had dragged Flint’s name into this mess, and yet Flint acts like nothing is out of the ordinary.

They enter the tavern in no time and Silver spots Gresham right away, sitting by a table little off to the side. Silver nods his head towards the man, informing Flint who they are up against. The captain, as calm as ever, starts walking right away, leaving Silver behind.

Fuck this.

Silver catches Flint when the captain’s shaking Gresham’s hand.

“Glad the both of you could make it”, Gresham starts, scratching his unkempt beard, “You see, parting with my crew, even temporarily, is a rather serious issue.”

“I understand, good Gresham, being a captain myself”, Flint says as he sits down. Silver chooses not to open his mouth, having done enough damage as it is.

“Naturally, Captain Flint, naturally”, Gresham smiles. “Now, Silver here managed to make quite a compelling case, earlier."

This rather insignificant pirate captain had been quite forward with his intentions earlier, enough so to leave Silver feeling uncomfortable and make him use Flint as an emergency lie. Now, sitting here with the man once more, Silver could see the look on Gresham’s face and it was not easing his worries. He makes Silver feel like a cheap piece of meat, something the quartermaster does not appreciate. Silver's words appeared to have little effect, and Gresham is still under the impression that Silver’s his to take.

As if reading Silver’s mind, Flint swings a hand around his shoulders. The quartermaster goes absolutely rigid under Flint’s touch and he just about leaps out of his chair when Flint let’s his fingers gently sink into Silver’s messy curls, close to caressing them.

“Didn’t expect anything else”, Flint says, and there's the predatory smile Silver’s seen enough times now to know it doesn’t lead up to anything good.

After that small halt the conversation continues, and they move on to discuss the deal in more detail and debate what it entails. Regretfully they need Gresham’s men to replace some of the injured Walrus crew. Silver’s contribution to the conversation is admirable, despite his focus being elsewhere, senses hyper alert in Flint’s proximity. There’s more stuttering than befits Silver’s image, but the quartermaster cannot find himself caring when the captain is toying with Silver in the worst ways possible, gently trailing his fingers along Silver’s neck and tugging his hair from time to time.

Flint’s up to something, of that Silver is certain. Whether this is a cruel joke or just the captain’s way of getting to Silver for not doing his job properly, Silver can’t tell, but something is definitely up. Flint’s motivated, his movements being too precise and calculated for anything else.

So when Gresham gets out of his chair to get them all drinks, Silver pries himself free from Flint’s grasp as fast as humanely possible.

“The fuck was that?” Silver asks and Flint’s face betrays nothing.

“You told him I’m possessive”, Flint says, and comes closer, not concerned about Silver's personal space.

“No, I did not, I merely implied it”, Silver continues, incredulously following Flint’s hand moving up to caress his jaw, “I don't think he expects you to act like a wanton virgin.”

“I’m just here to sell your lies”, Flint’s voice goes lower, as he pulls Silver even closer, “You rather I didn’t?”

Flint sinks his teeth into Silver’s earlobe, and Silver lets out a hiss. The quartermaster flinches, finding it hard to come to terms with the current state of events. He has imagined Flint coming on to him multiple times, more than enough, but never have his dreams taken place in a full tavern during an important meeting with a possible associate. This is not a dream as far as Silver can tell, his earlobe still throbbing.

Flint backs away and gives Silver an expectant look, waiting for an answer, hand now twisted around the nape of his neck.

“No?” Silver says, asks, begs, voice higher than normal. The look on Flint’s face is filthy as he smiles, clearly satisfied with himself. He has Silver wrapped around his finger, greedily taking anything he has to offer.

“Didn’t think so”, Flint’s words are accompanied by him yanking Silver’s hair, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to send shivers cursing all over Silver’s body.

Moments later Gresham returns none the wiser and sets tankards of ale in front of them, giving them a searching look. It doesn’t take long for Silver to gather that he probably looks as flustered as he feels and Flint is still incredibly close. There's no way to misinterpret what went on between them, but maybe that's good and Gresham will think twice before approaching Silver again.  
  
  
Silver has always prided himself on his good composure, his life having counted on it enough times to make it a significant asset. Now, however, sitting in this tavern with Flint’s foot hooked around his ankle and one hand caressing his thigh, rising higher than was strictly necessary in the present of company, Silver was coming to his wit’s end. He would love to exchange a few chosen words with the captain, but Gresham refuses to leave. Not that Gresham's presence seemed to discourage Flint in any way, his touches becoming more bold as the evening got older. The captain keeps acting as if these intimate touches are an everyday occurrence, and it's killing Silver.

Silver wishes he could return the touches, but he doesn't dare, not when he is not sure of Flint's intentions. The captain is going above and beyond for a mere lie, so maybe there is something growing there, between the two of them. Something bigger. But God, Silver aches to scrape his fingers across clean-shaven head, to bury his face into Flint's neck and just smell the man. The captain has yet to kiss him, having broken every other boundary during the course of the last hour. That doesn't stop Silver from fantasising what Flint would taste like, what it would feel like to bite the man's lower lip. Silver wants Flint badly, and he hopes he'll get a chance to act on his desires. 

The best comes whenever Gresham turns to look at Silver, or frankly pays him any attention at all. Whenever that happens, Flint seems to get increasingly more possessive, pressing himself against Silver, pulling him close. That's when the captain's touches turn gentle and Silver thinks there might be something more to this than just a stupid lie.  
  
  
When Gresham finally stands up, Silver is ready to cry, his level of frustration hitting a new high. He’s not sure if he could have physically put himself through any more of Flint’s touches without doing something rash. Flint is quick to stand up, separating from Silver to shake Gresham’s hand. Now whether or not they have come to make a profitable deal, Silver cannot say, having been distracted for the better part of the meeting.

“I’ll be sending my men over come morrow. Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”

“Pleasure’s all mine”, Flint drawls suggestively and Silver is on fire. Frankly, he feels like selling all his scant possessions, buying himself a ride to Boston, and burying himself in the snow. Surely that would be more preferable to the hell he is being put through here in Nassau.

Silver watches Gresham leave with mixed feelings. He’s not sure he wants to be left alone with Flint in his current state of mind. Not when the captain seats himself back down next to Silver, giving his body a once-over.

“I despise that man”, Flint sighs. The faint, yellow light of the tavern is casting shadows on the captain and his eyes appear almost black. Unable to move, pinned in place by the intense gaze, Silver comes closer to understanding how this man in front of him has become the most feared man in the West Indies.

“Why?”

“For thinking he could lay a finger on you”, Flint answers and then he's kissing Silver.

The kiss is heated and there is nothing polite about it. Silver surrenders under Flint's mouth, letting his hands twist around the man, pulling him closer still. It's embarrassing how quickly Flint manages to work Silver, figuring out where to go for the best responses. The kiss has Silver out of his mind in what feels like just a matter of seconds. Flint holds Silver close, possessively shielding him from the rest of the room, one hand in his hair and one traveling up Silver’s abdomen. Silver's had his fair share of intimate moments, with both men and women respectfully, but none of them have ever come with such a feeling of gravity attached to them. It makes every move more exhilirating, every touch more significant.

The long kiss turns into smaller ones, exploratory pecks and touches that only manages to build up the heat. Flint is as straightforward with his caresses and attention as he is with his speeches, making Silver shiver in his touch. They both need more, that much is certain, but the realities offered by a busy tavern leave them both wanting. 

“Jesus Christ”, Silver moans against Flint’s mouth, enjoying the chafe of the man’s beard against his jaw, "How long have you been holding this in?"

“Slightly less than you”, Flint smirks, kissing the side of Silver’s mouth, yanking his hair. The captain seems partial to Silver’s hair. It's something the quartermaster is eager to explore further, if they ever get a chance to continue this somewhere more private.

“Oh, shit”, Silver gasps as Flint’s hand land somewhere they absolutely should not in polite company, “How can you be so sure?”

There’s that feral grin on Flint’s lips again. Silver feels it in the kiss, the smile stretching across his lips. This is the first time Silver’s seeing the grin directed towards something other than utter destruction and mayhem. Unless that’s exactly what the other man has in mind.

Silver’s breath hitches in his throat.

“You're not nearly as subtle as you think."  
  
  
It can’t continue forever, regretfully, and soon Flint is pushing Silver away from him. Air rushes between them and Silver swallows his disappointment. This was going so well, why stop it now just for the sake of an audience. Silver nearly says as much, but decides to hold it in at the last minute. It's not like him to be so desperate, and he has already damaged his image enough for one evening.

“Stop pouting, Silver, it doesn’t suit you”, Flint says and stands up, “I still need to rely Gresham’s plans to Rackham.”

Silver lets his head fall against the back of the chair. He feels defeated, and if acting like a petulant child helps him work through it, he’s not going to stop himself. Silver cannot help the frustrated noise that escapes through his lips, but thankfully Flint doesn’t mention it. 

“You go find Max in the meantime and ask for a bath to be brought to my room. I will meet you there in approximately an hour. Get yourself cleaned up and ready", Flint bends down to kiss the corner of Silver's mouth.

With that Flint leaves, a spring in his step that’s so unusual it leaves Silver feeling a bit perturbed. Then Flint’s words hit him with a force and a new wave of pleasure heats up Silver’s entire body. Obscene images fill Silver's head and he needs to really fight the urge to run after the captain and just beg the man to take him against a wall. Thankfully, he now only needs to hold himself together for an hour, as it seems like this isn't the end to their evening. Silver just needs to go locate the tiny madam, post haste.

If Max sends a knowing smile his way when Silver finally gets to make his request, he chooses not to pay it any mind. Silver has other things to think of, like running up the stairs to Flint’s room without tripping over and getting himself as naked as the day he was born.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this! feel free to leave any comments, constructive or otherwise! kept editing this for two days and something still doesn't seem quite right but you know what - I'm done for now


End file.
